


The Prince and the Viscount

by frecklesarechocolate



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, M/M, Other, Regency Romance, Romance, Scandal, Shotgun Wedding, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-24
Updated: 2014-03-22
Packaged: 2017-12-24 13:28:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/940527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frecklesarechocolate/pseuds/frecklesarechocolate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As the youngest son of the king, Castiel does not have a lot of family obligations. However, his family does want him to marry, despite the fact that he does not wish to. He's perfectly happy on his own. However, the captain of the Royal Guard, Viscount Dean Winchester does occasionally (okay, more than occasionally) make him rethink the notion of being alone. That the attraction is mutual seems to have escaped everyone's notice. There's scandal, gossip and rumors, obnoxious older (and younger) brothers, a few love matches and yes, even a happy ending. (Eventually.)</p><p>A note: while the setting is meant to be similar to the historical Regency period in England, the actual setting is not England, instead, the trappings of Regency society are the backdrop of this story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [Ten](http://colonialdncr.tumblr.com) for being a great beta, and for creating [these awesome banners](http://colonialdncr.tumblr.com/post/59134832482/make-sure-to-check-out-deanhugchesters-latest)!

Viscount Dean Winchester was the head of the Royal Guard. He didn’t need the job, the Winchester family name gave him not only a title, but also lands to go with it. He didn’t want any of that, though, and he enjoyed the work. In addition to having the fastest horse in the kingdom, his beloved Impala, he worked alongside his brother, Sam, and he was trusted with protecting the members of the royal family.

The king was easy to keep track of; most of the time, Chuck just wanted to be left on his own, except for when it came to the business of running the country. He was surprisingly good at it for a man who most of the time preferred to keep to the company of his family, and, before she had passed away, the Queen.

And what a family it was. Raucous, mischievous the lot of them, even the quietest, who looked as if he would be the least of Dean’s troubles, but often ended up being the most. The family was large, six children, five boys and one girl. Well, Dean thought, at this point, five men, and one woman. Michael, the eldest, had the most sense of self-preservation, and tried his best to keep a lid on the antics of the others, but he was mostly unsuccessful. That mostly had to do with the fact that Michael saw himself as the head of the family already, despite the fact that their father was still around. There was Luc, next eldest, who had a hard exterior, but beneath that was a kind soul. Luc tended to have his own ideas about the best way to do things, however, and those ideas meant that he was frequently at loggerheads with his father, and, more frequently, his older brother Michael.

Gabriel was the troublemaker, playing tricks on everyone, never around when needed for some social or political occasion, and always finding ways to get his siblings into trouble. Gabriel was the child who wanted the least to do with the family, and Dean, Sam and the other members of the Royal Guard spent much of their time chasing after Gabriel and bringing him back home. As a child, that had meant pulling him out of trees, or some hiding spot in the stables. As an adult, that frequently meant one of the many brothels that Town had to offer.

The daughter, Anna, was free-spirited and kind, although she was also as tough as nails. She frightened many of the guards (though they would never admit to it) with her fierce loyalty to her family while managing her independence.

The last two sons, Balthazar and Castiel were often inseparable. Balthazar, who flirted with just about anything that moved and had little scruples as to whether the person he was flirting with was nobility or not, male or female, spent much of his time finding ways to give Dean and Sam the slip and dash off to find his latest conquest. Castiel was the most reserved of the children, but that didn’t mean that he caused the Royal Guard any less trouble. If anything, he could be more of a concern because when something got under Castiel’s skin, his sole focus was on fixing it, righting the wrong, and heaven help anyone who got in his way.

Today, however, Dean was in search of Sam, who for some reason, was off somewhere without having let Dean know where he was. This was not normally a big problem, but there was a ball tonight. Dean hated the affairs, because not only did that mean that he had to dress, but it meant making sure that all of their royal highnesses were chaperoned as well as kept safe. And all of the royal family, Chuck included, seemed to make it their life’s goal to find ways to slip out of the palace where it wasn’t safe.

Dean scrubbed his face and strode through the main hallway looking for Sam. He spotted Samandriel, Castiel’s valet, and hailed him.

“Samandriel!”

The younger man started, but a smile crawled across his face as he turned and saw who had called his name. “Lord Winchester, good morning.”

“How many times have I told you to call me Dean?”

“At least a hundred, Lord Winchester. What can I do for you?”

Dean resisted the temptation to roll his eyes. Samandriel was always one for following proper protocol. “Have you seen my brother?”

“I have not. Have you tried the kitchens? Cook made some cinnamon buns for breakfast, and Prince Gabriel may have left one or two uneaten.” Samandriel tried not to grin, but it was a losing battle. Everyone in the palace knew of the prince’s love of sweets. It was not really likely that Sam would be in the kitchen, especially if Prince Gabriel was in the vicinity, and Cook’s leftover cinnamon buns likely meant that the prince would be back for more.

“I’ll look there. Thanks, Samandriel.”

The valet bowed and hurried away, leaving Dean to continue his search for his brother. He had no luck in the kitchens, but Cook did press a cinnamon bun on him, still gooey warm. He was licking the last of the icing from his thumb when he ran into a solid body. He fell back with a loud, “Oof,” but before he tumbled to the floor, a strong hand reached out to grab onto him.

Dean maintained his equilibrium and looked up to see blue eyes staring down into his own, concerned. Damn, he thought. Castiel. As if he didn’t have enough to distract him today. _Prince Castiel_ , Dean reminded himself, stood tall and regal, but there was always something slightly rumpled about him. It was distracting, Dean found, because he so often wanted to smooth the wrinkled fabric of Castiel’s – _Prince_ Castiel’s – shirt and straighten his cravat. Broad shouldered and well muscled, the prince was a sight to behold. Dean swallowed and tried to force a grin. It was shaky, he knew, but the prince always did keep him off balance.

“Apologies, your Highness. I wasn’t paying attention.” Dean tried not to let his grin fall when Castiel loosened his grip on his arm and stepped away.

“It was my fault, Dean,” the prince said, and Dean’s mouth grew dry at the sound of the prince’s voice – that voice – using his given name. The prince’s voice was rough and deep, like sandpaper on gravel, and it managed to hit just about every single one of Dean’s nerves in all the right places. Dean often wondered what that voice would sound like in the throes of passion, whispering things in his ear, encouraging him to...

Dean shook his head, forcing himself out of the fog of lust that threatened to overtake him. He realized that the prince had said something to him, and that he needed to respond. What was it? Oh, yes. “Not your fault, your Highness.” He saw that the prince was distracted, his jaw tight and the muscle beneath pulsing. “Is everything all right?”

“Hm?” Castiel turned the full force of his gaze on Dean. “Yes. Yes, everything is just fine.” Castiel inhaled and seemed to come back to himself. “Will you be on duty for this evening’s festivities, or there as a guest?”

It took a minute for Dean to catch up to the prince’s change in subject. “I will be working. Your brothers will most likely keep me busy.”

Castiel hummed. “Yes, likely.” The prince’s mind was clearly elsewhere, staring at a point just beyond Dean’s shoulder, and when neither one of them spoke for a long moment, Dean cleared his throat.

“I need to go... I’m looking for my brother.” He hesitated. “Have you seen him?”

Castiel didn’t answer at first, his concentration still on whatever was behind Dean. “Hm? Oh. No, I haven’t.” Castiel nodded. Dean thanked the prince and continued on his search for Sam. He’d been lusting after Castiel for a good year now, and nothing had come of it. Not that he’d expected it to, because differences in station aside, the prince was worth more than a tumble in the hay, and Dean could get that any time. Speaking of hay, maybe Sam was out at the stables.


	2. Chapter 2

_Blast_ , Castiel thought as he watched the captain of the royal guard walk away. The man was... well, beautiful, and a complication he couldn’t afford. Lord Winchester was far too much of a diversion, and he couldn’t allow himself to be derailed. He straightened his waistcoat and willed his ardor to calm.

Lord Winchester and his brother had been in the palace for about five years, ever since the tragedy of their parents’ deaths. Chuck had taken them in, not because of any loyalty to their father, the Viscount, but because the former Captain of the Guard - Bobby Singer - had wished it. Captain Singer had himself risen through the ranks of the army to finally be appointed captain by the king, and he, in turn, recruited the Winchesters.

His active role in encouraging both Winchester sons to follow their desire to join the military led to a falling out with the Viscount, John. He had been furious, wanting his sons to focus on learning how to run the estate, and be like “all of the other members of nobility” – behaved, dutiful sons. Dean had tried that for a while, but being settled and tied down to the Lawrence estate hadn’t felt right. Captain Singer had strongly advocated to get the Winchester sons to join the Royal Guard, and Chuck had eventually agreed to take them on, despite the objections from their father. Lord Winchester and his wife had died just a year later.

Castiel turned on his heel and stalked out of the entry hall toward the residential part of the palace. He’d been summoned to see the king, and he couldn’t be late, as pleasing an excuse as Dean Winchester was.

Outside his father’s chambers, he tapped on the door lightly, and when he heard Chuck say, “Enter”, he pushed open the door. 

The king’s chambers fit his personality - the atmosphere was relaxed, and while the rooms weren’t sloppy, they were crowded, filled with books and papers and knick knacks covering just about every available surface. Chuck himself was medium height, and had a scruffy face, despite many attempts by his children to get him to shave. He refused, saying it didn’t matter what he looked like, he was the king. His chambers, too, were kind of scruffy, but comfortable.

Castiel stiffened, though, when he saw that Chuck wasn’t alone – Michael and Luc sat across from him, and judging from the triumphant look on Michael’s face, Castiel didn’t think he was going to enjoy this conversation. 

“Castiel!” Chuck said with a wide grin. He, at least, looked happy to see his youngest son. Castiel perched on the edge of one of the chairs, and waited. 

Just before Chuck could begin, however, Michael launched the conversation.

“It’s time you got married.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. This meant that he missed the flicker of annoyance that passed over Chuck’s face. Rather than respond to Michael, however, Cas looked at their father.

Chuck laughed, but said with a warning tone, “Michael.” Michael cleared his throat before sitting back on the couch. Luc covered a smirk behind a cough and flicked an amused glance at Castiel.

“Castiel, despite the fact Michael has spoken out of turn, he is correct. It’s time for you to get married.”

Castiel sighed. He didn’t want to get married. As the youngest son of the king, he was at loose ends. There wasn’t a family obligation for him to fulfill, and the rest of his family managed to find ways to involve themselves in governance in some form or another. He was still trying to figure out his place, and he didn’t want a wedding and resulting marriage to get in the way of that.

Besides, there was no one he was interested in marrying.

Chuck held up his hand before Castiel could voice any of his objections. “I don’t want to have to force you to marry anyone, Castiel. But I worry about you. I don’t want you to be alone.” The rest of the sentences goes unsaid: like the king. Chuck had not remarried after the queen had died, and Castiel knew that it was because Chuck had loved her intensely. The weeks and months after their mother’s death had been difficult for everyone; Chuck had locked himself in his chambers and barely come out for anything. Then one morning, he made an appearance at breakfast, looking gaunt and pale, with a wan smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He was as attentive to his children as before, but there was a piece of him missing. Castiel had watched his father, seen how he wasn’t the man he’d been before the queen’s death, and made a vow that he would not allow that to happen to him.

This was, of course, before the Viscount, Lord Dean Winchester, had joined the Royal Guard. Castiel groaned inwardly and redirected his attention to his father and brothers, who were looking at him expectantly.

“I appreciate that, Father, but you don’t have to worry about me. I’m not alone,” Castiel said.

Chuck made a face that showed that he didn’t believe his youngest son, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, it was Michael who said, “It’s not just about you being alone, Castiel. You have an obligation to the family to produce an heir.”

Castiel barely held back his snort. “That’s your job, not mine.” The hostility was barely contained. Again, Luc grinned. Both older brothers were married, Luc much more happily than Michael, whose wife, Ruby, could only be kindly described as a shrew. Luc and his wife Lilith were much better matched, and they seemed to enjoy each other’s company. If there was someone who would be a good advocate for marriage, it should be Luc, and not Michael. But Luc wasn’t offering up an argument in either direction.

Michael glared at Castiel, but Chuck put a hand on his knee and prevented him from saying anything.

“All I am saying is that it’s something we need to begin considering. There will be many lovely young women at the ball tonight. You should take the time to get to know a few of them.” Chuck stood, and stretched. “I have some business to attend to, if you’ll excuse me.”

Michael led the three of them out of their father’s room. Before Castiel could get away, however, Michael held him back with a hand on his arm. “I can give you some tips on speaking to the ladies if you’d like, Castiel.”

“He doesn’t need _your_ help, Michael,” Luc said, tucking his arm into Castiel’s. “Come, brother. Lilith would speak with you before tonight’s ball.” Castiel allowed himself to be pulled away. He didn’t have to look back to know that Michael was grimacing as if he’d been chewing on a lemon. 


	3. Chapter 3

Sam wasn’t in the stables, and all the horses were in their stalls, so he wasn’t out riding. Dean slipped out just as Gabriel entered, managing to avoid a confrontation with the prince. Other than Michael, who was the most difficult member of the family to get along with, Gabriel was Dean’s least favorite. Sam’s too, and with good reason - Gabriel made every attempt to annoy and pester Sam given the slightest opportunity. Most of the time, his pranks and jokes were harmless, but occasionally they could be quite dangerous. The time that he loosened one of the steps on the grand staircase had only resulted in Castiel tripping and receiving several large bruises, but it could have been much worse.

It seemed, also, that if Sam were not the butt of Gabriel’s jokes, then it was Castiel – _Prince_ Castiel – who was Gabriel’s victim. Dean didn’t know if it was by design or not, but the youngest prince always managed to get caught in Gabriel’s sights. Dean felt a hot flush of anger as he thought on this, and he clenched his fists until the knuckles were white in an attempt to stomp down on it.

Dean was out of places to look, and he was also frankly too busy to continue the search. For someone so large, it was hard to believe that he managed to disappear so completely. Dean made his way back to the guard’s headquarters, which were in a suite in the back corner basement of the palace. There he and Sam did the administrative side of their jobs – organizing who would escort which member of the royal family where, and when. There was also an area set up for combat training: sword fighting, boxing, and a few other exotic forms of fighting that Captain Singer had introduced to the Royal Guard after a visit to one of the neighboring kingdoms.

The members of the Royal Guard were handpicked, and they were all the best, although they were a motley group. There were some who were aristocracy, like Sam and Dean, and others who were career military, or even lowborn; but no less experts for it.

Dean had even gone the unprecedented route of taking on two women: Jody Mills and Jo Harvelle. Both women were excellent fighters, strong and cutthroat should the need arise. Dean had long ago learned that expertise came in all packages, and he trusted Jo and Jody with his life, and, more importantly, Sam’s. He’d had little difficulty convincing the king that they should be taken on.

Benny Lafitte and Victor Henriksen rounded out the members of the guard chosen by Dean. Victor was a noble in his own right, the second son of the Marquis of Folsom, and a brave fighter. He, like Dean, had gone against his father’s wishes and joined the military, fighting alongside the Winchesters. He had been happy to join Dean and Sam as a member of the Royal Guard. Benny was career military, and perhaps Dean’s closest friend other than Sam.

As Dean drew closer, he could hear the sounds of sparring, and deep laughter. He rounded the corner and saw Benny and Victor playfully sword fighting, jabbing and lunging at each other. Dean leaned against the door jamb to watch them, noting areas where one or the other of them was not as strong as they should be. Benny had taken to favoring his left side, and Dean wondered about that. Victor saw him standing in the doorway and winked at Dean before pressing his advantage with Benny. Benny, however, leaped out of the way and managed to trip Victor, who stumbled but didn’t fall. They both grinned at Dean, who returned their greetings.

“Benny, you’re favoring the left side,” Dean said, the question hiding in the statement.

Benny grimaced. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

Dean raised an eyebrow, wondering what that was all about, but Benny had turned his back and was re-sheathing the sword, effectively ending the conversation. Dean tossed a questioning look at Victor, who shrugged.

“Seen Sam?” Dean asked instead.

“Not since breakfast,” Victor answered.

Dean sighed, frustrated that he couldn’t find his brother, but there were other things to deal with. He waved Victor and Benny into the office and sat at the desk. They had to work out the security for the ball that evening. He wanted to make sure that every member of the royal family was escorted by at least one member of the guard. Victor and Benny sat across from him, and they started working out a schedule.

They’d been working for about half an hour or so when Sam appeared in the doorway, slightly out of breath and his hair disheveled. Dean frowned, but merely waved Sam into the room. They worked for another quarter of an hour before they were all satisfied with the arrangements; they decided that they would rotate who kept an eye on Gabriel, so as to spread out the distasteful task. Luckily, as Michael and Lucifer had their own households, they also had their own guards, and they didn’t need to worry about the eldest brothers.

When Victor and Benny left to post the schedule for the rest of the guard, Dean folded his arms across his chest and glared up at his brother. Deciding that he couldn’t really effectively dress down his brother from a seated position, he shoved back his chair and stood. Sam still towered over him by a good few inches, but Dean at least felt that he was on a more level playing field.

“Where were you this morning?” Dean asked.

Sam ran his fingers through his hair, brushing it back from his face. Dean’s palms itched; he desperately wanted to get his hands on a pair of shears and give his brother a trim. “I was at Blake House.”

Oh. Understanding dawned. Sam had been courting Lady Sarah Blake for several months now. “And did you see Lady Sarah?”

Sam shook his head, suddenly unable to look Dean in the eye. He stared at the floor as if there were something utterly fascinating in the pattern of the rug beneath their feet.

“Then who did you see?” Dean asked.

“The Duke,” Sam answered. “I asked him for Sarah’s hand.”

Dean gaped. He knew that things were getting serious between Sam and Lady Sarah, but he hadn’t realized that Sam was at the point where he wanted to ask Sarah to marry him. “And?” Dean asked before he could get a full head of steam on his excitement. If the Duke had said no, and it was a distinct possibility, given that Sam was the youngest son of a viscount, and could bring nothing of worth to the marriage. Many families cared more about that than the possibility of a love match. Dean bit his lower lip while he waited for Sam to answer.

“He told me he would give me his answer this evening,” Sam said, his shoulders slumping somewhat.

“Oh. Do you have any sense…?” Dean asked, but Sam shook his head.

“None,” Sam sighed, and Dean really hoped that the Duke’s final answer would in fact be yes, because it would break Sam’s heart to hear no, and Dean couldn’t bear the idea of his brother having a broken heart.

Dean clapped Sam on the back. “Come on, let’s see to the ball preparations. It will keep your mind off things.” The look Sam gave him said that he didn’t believe Dean one whit, but he at least nodded and followed Dean out of the headquarters.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ball.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! Thanks for sticking with me!

The main ballroom of the palace was gorgeously decorated. In the corner, a string quartet played something unobtrusive, yet lively at the same time. Men and women from society gathered throughout the room, chatting easily with each other.

Castiel watched it all from his spot by the wall, next to one of the large potted plants. He hoped to avoid as much of the required socializing as possible, not wanting to dance with anyone, but also not willing to openly flout his father’s wishes. He sank further back into the wall, hoping that the plant would provide some cover while he observed the people swirling around the room.

Decked out in their best, the women dripped with jewels, and the men wore silk, painting a very pretty picture. People huddled together in clusters, whispering to each other as they eyed the various single men and women throughout the room. There were only a few couples dancing, but it was early yet, and the quartet hadn’t really struck up any dances.

Across the ballroom in a corner, Castiel spied Balthazar, leaning over what Castiel assumed was to be Balthazar’s next conquest. A young man who came just to Balthazar’s shoulder looked up at the prince with stars in his eyes, his dark hair swept back fetchingly from his pale face. He was about a head shorter than Balthazar, but where Balthazar was thin, this young man was broad. Castiel could see why this young man had attracted Balthazar’s attention. As if sensing his brother’s scrutiny on him, Balthazar turned and caught Castiel’s eye. He raised his glass of champagne and nodded his head, a sly grin on his face. Castiel returned the gesture with a small smile of his own.

“Will you be dancing later this evening?” a deep voice spoke next to him. Castiel hadn’t noticed it when his companion had joined him, but he was glad that he had. He turned to take in Dean, who was scanning the hall constantly, eyes flickering across all the attendees. He wore a dark burgundy coat with a high collar, and an ivory waistcoat beneath. His cravat was tied in a mail coach knot. Castiel had to remind himself to breathe as he took in the stunning example of male beauty standing casually next to him. He looked down at his hastily done up cravat and wished that he’d let Samandriel tie it, as his valet had tried to insist.

“Your highness?” Dean asked, and Castiel had to remind himself of the question.

“Oh. No, not if I can avoid it, Lord Winchester. What about you?”

Dean shrugged. “I’m working. I doubt I’ll have the time.” He continued to let his eyes roam over the ballroom, but he turned toward the prince. “You should be able to find at least one person you’d like to dance with.”

Castiel made a face. “I don’t enjoy it.” He neglected to mention that given the chance to dance with Dean, he would without a second thought. Dean hummed something in response, and they fell silent. Castiel tried to see the ballroom as Dean would, with potential threats around every corner, behind each meticulously tied cravat or pinned up set of curls, but he couldn’t. He essentially trusted the people of his kingdom, thinking that none of them would want to harm anyone in his family. Well, perhaps Michael, but whoever that was would most likely have to get in line behind Castiel and his siblings.

A flash of red caught his eye, and he turned toward it just in time to catch Anna, who had flung herself into his arms.

“Castiel!” she laughed. “You must come out onto the dance floor.” She began to tug him away from the wall. He threw an apologetic glance over his shoulder to Dean, who nodded, a smile playing at the sides of his lips. Anna forced Castiel into the center of the dancing area and grabbed his hands. They danced for a minute or so in silence, and then she said, “I heard that Father summoned you earlier.”

Castiel rolled his eyes. If there was one thing that everyone was good at in the palace, it was spreading rumors. Anna referred to it as information gathering, but it was gossip, plain and simple. “Yes,” he said, hoping that it would satisfy Anna, but knowing better.

“What did he want to talk to you about?” Anna had somehow managed to take the lead in dancing, and she pushed him back away from the quartet where it was quieter and they could speak without having to raise their voices too much.

Castiel sighed. “He wants me to get married.” Castiel made a face. “Michael was there.”

Anna snorted. “Michael took control of the conversation, no doubt.”

“Very unladylike, Anna,” Castiel said, ignoring what she said in favor of chiding her for snorting. This garnered him another snort.

“When has that ever stopped me, Castiel?” She twirled Castiel around. “And Michael is really not one to talk when it comes to marriage. Ruby is very unhappy.”

Castiel looked down at his sister. “And you would know this because…”

Anna lowered her lashes and stared up at Castiel through them. “Ruby is lonely. She and I talk.”

Castiel raised his eyebrow skeptically, but knew better than to say anything. Like Castiel, Anna was unmarried, but there seemed to be little pressure on her to find a partner. Castiel wondered what it was that made him special.

The dance ended and Anna stepped away from her brother. “Castiel, you should consider asking Dean to dance.” Her eyes danced with mischief.

“I doubt that Lord Winchester would want to dance with me.” The words dropped from his mouth before he could prevent them. The “got you” look that danced across his sister’s features, he wished he could take them back.

Anna grinned. “Oh, I think he very much would.” She glanced over her shoulder at the man in question. “But you don’t have to take my word for it. Just go ask him.” She swept away, waggling her fingers at him over her shoulder. Castiel sighed heavily. Having inadvertently given his sister teasing fodder, he wanted to slink away and spend the rest of the evening alone, where no one would be able to deride him for what was really an appalling crush on someone who was completely unavailable to him.

He grabbed a glass of champagne off of the tray of a passing footman and drank it down in one gulp. Perhaps he could just spend the rest of the evening in his cups. Watching his brothers dance with their wives and his sister dance with, well, everyone, gave Castiel a sour taste in his mouth, though. After a few minutes, he found a footman and grabbed another glass of champagne. He weaved between the assembled guests to the french doors that led out onto the terrace and gulped in the fresh air gratefully.

It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy seeing his family happy, or that he found the balls thrown by his father distasteful, but rather that he wasn’t in the mood for celebration tonight. He didn’t know why it was that the king had focused on him to be the next to marry, when both Anna and Balthazar were both older and similarly unattached.

The doors swung open behind him, and he turned just in time to see Balthazar and his latest conquest sneaking away. Balthazar caught Castiel’s eye and winked, putting a finger to his lips. Balthazar seemed to be immune from his father’s attempts to marry off all his children, and Castiel couldn’t figure out how he’d managed it. To top it off, Balthazar had also managed to avoid any whiff of scandal or rumor, despite the fact that just about everyone in society knew exactly what sort of things he got up to given half the chance.

Castiel sighed and finished off his champagne. It was a frustrating double standard, and he had neither the ability to understand it nor undo it. He was tempted to throw the glass into the garden beneath the terrace as a way to vent, but knowing that some poor maid would have to clean it up stayed his hand.

The doors behind him opened again, and instead of turning to see who it was this time, he chose to ignore it. If it were another couple off to find a spot for a tryst, they wouldn’t want to be seen by him, and if it were a member of his family, well, he’d try to ignore them as long as he could.

Unfortunately, it seemed that the gods were not on his side tonight, as the newcomer decided to settle next to him, leaning on the half wall separating the terrace from the garden.

“Good evening, Castiel.” The voice was deep and sonorous. Castiel closed his eyes; no hope for peace and solitude then. It was Uriel, and Castiel had an idea of what it was that the other man wanted. He bit back a groan and turned to face the other man, hoping that his true feelings didn't show on his face. Uriel was the same height as Castiel, and he carried himself proudly, like the noble that he was. His dark skin was accentuated by the deep purple of his coat. Uriel stood next to Castiel, a little too closely, but just far enough away to be polite. Castiel couldn't move away without being rude, and so he had to remain where he was. Within seconds, he was assaulted by Uriel's overpowering cologne; it smelled as if the man had bathed in it, and it made Castiel lightheaded.

"Good evening, Uriel," Castiel replied, keeping his tone even. It wasn't that Castiel didn't like Uriel, he was, for the most part, a good man, but there was something about him that put Castiel on his guard. He wasn't sure exactly what it was, not yet, but it was there nonetheless. For his part, Uriel seemed content to just stand on the terrace with him and stare out at the darkened garden.

Soon, though, Uriel turned to face Castiel. "I was hoping that you might accompany me back into the ballroom for a dance."

Castiel held back his sigh and said, "Thank you, but no. I don't feel much like dancing."

Uriel pressed closer, his cologne pooling in Castiel's nostrils. "I have been told I'm a very good dancer."

Castiel stepped away from the other man and repeated himself. "No, thank you." As he stepped back, however, Uriel followed him, reaching out a hand. Uriel grabbed onto Castiel's elbow and pulled him close.

"We can dance here, if you'd prefer."

Castiel stiffened in Uriel's grasp and then yanked his arm away. Uriel’s frame was a bit stockier than Castiel’s, holding more muscle. Where Castiel was quick and agile, Uriel was slower, but no less strong. He reached out again for Castiel, but Castiel continued to move out of Uriel's reach. He drew himself up to his full height and said, "I said I'm not interested in dancing. You need to leave." As custom dictated, he wore no sword at his waist, and he was beginning to regret that, wondering how far Uriel would push him. Hopefully Uriel would take the rejection and leave him alone before things got out of hand. Castiel had no desire to cause a scandal.

It seemed, however, that Uriel was not to be dissuaded, and he attempted to press his luck. He grabbed for Castiel again, but Castiel moved away too quickly. Unfortunately, Uriel had him cornered against the balustrade of the terrace. There was nowhere for Castiel to go unless he pushed forward and went around. Uriel had a feral look on his face, though, and he pressed his advantage. He crowded into Castiel's personal space, his breath warm on Castiel's face. Castiel was about to push forward to get away when suddenly, Uriel made a strange sound and stumbled backward.

Behind Uriel was Dean, who had a chunk of Uriel's jacket clasped in his fist. Dean's jaw was taut, as he yanked Uriel further away from Castiel and threw him against the railing. Uriel said, "Oof," softly as his breath left his body, and he took nearly a minute to inhale again, which he did noisily.

"Don't touch the Prince without his permission," Dean growled. He raised a finger. "He said no. I can have you removed, or you can leave quietly."

"Dean," Castiel said, but Dean was too busy threatening Uriel to pay attention. Unfortunately, others had begun to notice a commotion, and a small crowd was gathering at the doors to the ballroom. They whispered to each other as they speculated about what was going on with the three men on the terrace. Castiel groaned inwardly, aware of how this might look, and he stood next to Dean with his back to the other attendees. "Dean," he said again, more insistent. Dean continued to harangue Uriel, however, effectively ignoring Castiel. He spoke in a low, dark tone, so his individual words could only be heard by the three of them, but his body language broadcast his anger loudly.

Uriel kept an eye on Dean as if he were a dangerous animal, his gaze flickering to Castiel, and then to the crowd of people behind them. A grin flashed across his face and he said loudly, "I apologize for interrupting you and the Prince, Lord Winchester. I'll be on my way." Uriel turned on his heel and worked his way through the throng.

In response to this statement, the crowd erupted into loud buzzing as they relayed what Uriel had said to those further back. Still others began to speculate on what it was that Uriel meant. Dean stopped talking, his jaw falling open in confusion. He looked at Castiel as if to say, "What is this all about?", but then almost immediately, his face fell as he figured out what it was that Uriel had done. All the color drained from Dean's face as he began to splutter.

"That's not.... we didn't..." Dean said, trying to undo the damage that Uriel had done.

Each protest was met with more furious speculation from the crowd, until Castiel hissed at Dean, "Stop talking!" Dean's jaw shut with a snap.

"Let me through! Let me through," came a voice from the back of the crowd, and Castiel did groan out loud this time, because it belonged to Balthazar. He burst through and grinned when he saw Castiel standing next to Dean. The vein in Dean's forehead was pulsing dangerously as Dean attempted to hold his temper. Behind Balthazar was Michael, mouth pursed disapprovingly. Chuck was the last family member to appear, rounding out what had promised to be only a moderately boring evening, but had quickly devolved into one of Castiel's most painful experiences.

"Castiel!" Michael began, but he was cut off by Balthazar, who sidled up to Dean and winked salaciously.

"My my, Captain. Been dipping your toes in the royal pool, have we?" Balthazar said.

"What? No!" Dean said.

Michael scowled at Balthazar. "Bal, shut up. Don't make things worse. Castiel, what have you done?"

Castiel rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I haven't done anything." None of his family looked convinced. It was Chuck who took stock of the situation and called one of the footmen over. He had the footman usher the guests back into the ballroom and asked him to bring out another round or two of champagne, hoping that the drink would increase their inebriation, and that someone else would misstep, creating a new scandal with which to occupy everyone's time.

Chuck grabbed Dean and Castiel by their elbows and steered them off the terrace and down a path that wended its way parallel to the palace. He stopped just outside the doors to his study, which he opened. Gesturing inside, he said, "After you. We need to discuss this."

Castiel obeyed quietly, while Dean stomped into the study behind him, muttering under his breath all the while. The gathered society would interpret the evenings events as they wanted; all that they could do at this point was to limit the damage. Castiel wondered what his father had in mind.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Castiel have to explain to the king what happened with Uriel. Because of Uriel's well-placed innuendo, things could go badly for Dean.

"Father," Castiel began as soon as Chuck shut the door behind him. Chuck held up a hand to fend off whatever it was that Castiel was going to say. Dean stood just to the side the door, shoulders back and spine tense.

The king picked up a crystal decanter and unstoppered it. He grabbed three glasses and poured some of the amber liquid into each. He eyed Dean and Castiel briefly, and then poured another splash into two of the glasses. He handed one to Castiel and the other to Dean. The captain shook his head.

"Don't be stupid," Chuck said. "You obviously need it." He held the glass out to Dean, who took it reluctantly. "Sit," Chuck ordered. When Dean hesitated, Chuck sighed, but didn't press. He raised an eyebrow at Castiel, who sank into one of the chairs. Chuck sat opposite him on the couch.

Castiel sipped at the whisky, its fiery warmth spreading through his chest, counteracting the adrenaline caused by his encounter with Uriel. Castiel wondered what Chuck would say and do, but his father was content to let the silence stretch.

For his part, Dean stood by the door at attention, ignoring the glass in his hand. Soon, though, the peaty, caramel scent of the whisky reached Dean's nostrils. He gave into his desire to taste the spirit. He drank more deeply than he would normally, ignoring the slight frown from Castiel.

Although the room was quiet but for the ticking of the clock resting on Chuck's desk, the atmosphere wasn't tense. Chuck leaned back, one arm flung across the back of the couch, his legs crossed. He rested his glass on his knee and sat, waiting the other two out.

It took all of Dean's training to stay silent; to keep from spilling forth apologies and explanations. Relaxed Chuck might be, but he was the king, and Dean knew his place in that presence. Dean watched Chuck, who was regarding his son. What was Chuck thinking?

An eternity passed before Chuck spoke, and then all he said was, "Tell me."

Castiel inhaled, and then launched into an explanation of what had happened with Uriel. He spoke in soft, clipped tones, but he stared at a spot on the wall just over his father's head, doing what he could to dissociate himself from what had happened. He rubbed his arm where Uriel had grabbed him.

Chuck showed no reaction to the tale, other than a tightened jaw. When Castiel finished, Chuck's gaze fell on Dean. "Is there anything you want to add?" Chuck asked. If the question had come from anyone else, it would have been a challenge; a dare to contradict what the prince had said. From Chuck, it was a genuine question - he wanted to know Dean's observations and impressions. But Castiel had been honest.

Shaking his head, Dean said, "It's just as Castiel described." He had nothing that would change the story.

Chuck sighed. He leaned forward and put his glass on the table in front of him. "Everyone heard Uriel. No matter your reputations before this, everyone now believes his version." Chuck scratched at his beard. "That you've refused to marry before this will fuel those rumors, Castiel."

That stung, and Castiel opened his mouth to protest the unfairness of it.

"No, Castiel," Chuck said. "That's the way gossip works, you know that." Chuck thought for a moment. "We don't have much choice here. We can try to ride out the gossip; hope that they'll find something else to talk about soon, or..." Chuck looked at Dean. "You especially are not going to like this."

Dean shrugged. "I didn't like the hell that killed my parents."

Chuck paused, eyeing Dean. Then he said with a sigh, "If things get bad, you'll have to leave."

"What?! No," Castiel said, jumping up. "Father, you can't..."

"Castiel," Chuck started to say, but Dean interrupted him.

"Cas, it's fine. It's not like _you_ can go." Dean pushed off of the wall. "I can be ready to go by the morning." He licked his lips. "But Sam can stay?"

"Hang on there, Captain. I didn't say that you have to leave now." Chuck stood and clapped his hand on Dean's shoulder. "I said only if things get bad. I don't want to lose you." A wry smile twisted his mouth. "Besides, if you left, I think half of the royal guard would go with you."

Dean flushed, stomping down on the small part of him that hoped that was true. "I doubt that, your Majesty."

The look that Chuck gave Dean was fond. "You underestimate your charm, Dean. Those people are in the guard because of their love for you, not because they have a desire to protect me at the cost of their lives."

Silence fell between them for a few moments. At last, Castiel said, "Father, I apologize for putting you in this position."

"You're not the one who needs to apologize, Castiel." Chuck pinched the bridge of his nose. "Somehow I doubt that an apology will be forthcoming from Uriel. It's late. It would be best if you left the way you came, Dean. I will keep Castiel here for a few minutes longer."

With a sharp nod of his head, Dean turned on his heel and left the king's study. His mind reeled with the events of the evening. He'd done his duty, but that had somehow been a mistake, and now he could possibly pay a steep price for it.

As he approached a cluster of young women just outside the doors to the ballroom, the buzz of their conversation stopped. They watched him as he stalked by, their eyes following his every move. As soon as he was beyond them, their conversation started up again, pitched higher in their excitement. Dean hadn't thought they'd get a respite from the gossip, not really, but he'd hoped that it would be forgotten quickly. Given the level of interest and the number of people watching his every move as he crossed the ballroom, he rather thought that would not be the case.

Benny fell into step beside him. "Tell me the rumor mill has gone off the deep end, brother," he said in an undertone.

Dean shot him a glare and said, "If all you've heard is that Uriel attacked Cas, and I yanked him away, then no, the rumor mill has not gone off the deep end, Benny."

Benny chuckled. "Oh, it's Cas, now, is it?" Benny kept his voice low. "Then maybe the gossip is true."

Dean groaned. "What are they saying?"

"You sure you want to hear? Because I don't want you getting angry at the messenger, brother." As they walked further away from the ballroom, they left the sounds of the gala behind them. The tinkle of glassware and the bright chirrups of music faded away. Finally all they could hear was the normal sounds of a working palace; footsteps as maids and footmen went about their business, the occasional shutting of a door, and the far off murmur of the gathered crowd. The guests would stay for hours yet.

"Benny," Dean said, a warning in his tone. He just wanted to get out of his dress coat and crawl into his quarters where he could maybe drink himself into forgetting the entire night happened.

Benny held up his hands in surrender. "All right. But remember, you asked." Benny inhaled. "They're saying that Uriel walked in on you and the prince... _in flagrante delicto_."

"What?" Dean asked, not sure he'd heard correctly.

"Don't make me say it again, Dean, please," Benny said. "I'd rather not think about your sex life, if it's all the same to you."

Dean snorted. "I guarantee that whatever you imagine my sex life to be, the reality is far more boring." They had reached the royal guard offices, and he pulled open the door, letting Benny go ahead of him. "It's going to be bad, isn't it?"

Benny shrugged. "I think that depends on how you and Prince Castiel decide to handle it." Benny sprawled on one of the chairs. "I can take over some of your duties, if you want to keep out of everyone's way."

Dean shook his head. "No, that will just fuel the rumors. Gods, what a mess." Dean scrubbed his face and then turned to the cabinet beside his desk. He considered having a drink, but the conversation that had accompanied his last one left a sour taste in his mouth. "I think I'm just going to call it a night."

"Good idea. Things will look brighter in the morning."

"Yeah, only because the sun will be out," Dean grumbled.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel's family is not happy about the events from the ball, and Castiel learns that you really don't want to know what people are saying about you behind your back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for leaving you guys in the lurch on this for so long! I overextended myself a bit with the writing in the fall, but I'm going to work steadily on this until it's finished. Promise! <3 <3 Thank you for sticking with me!

Castiel tossed and turned most of the night, and he woke gritty eyed and irritable. Sheets tangled in his legs, he nearly fell getting out of bed. He glared at Samandriel, who, to his credit, didn't even blanche under Castiel's annoyed gaze, instead handing over the robe he'd been holding. Castiel sighed and put it on, fully aware that once he'd had some coffee and breakfast, that he would need to apologize to his valet.

Castiel washed his face and then stood, staring at his reflection in the mirror above the sink basin. His lack of sleep showed on his face - he was pale, with heavy bags underneath his eyes. He'd played the incident with Uriel over and over in his mind as sleep eluded him, and he came to two conclusions. One, Uriel was an ass, and Castiel didn't care what happened to him, but he hoped it would be painful. Two, he wished that Dean hadn't leapt to his rescue like that. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate the assistance, but the thing was that he hadn't needed any help, and now it was possible that Dean would have to leave the kingdom because of it.

It was an unappealing thought, to say the least.

Samandriel helped him dress, professional as always, keeping silent about anything that he might have heard about the previous night. Castiel liked Samandriel, but he was often too much the discrete valet. Other than his family, Castiel didn't have many friends, as most people tended to want to get to know him for what he could do for them rather than who he was.

At one time, Castiel might have considered Dean a friend - one he didn't know that well yet, but a friend nonetheless. That particular ship may have sailed, however.

Rather than head out of the room for breakfast once he’d finished dressing, Castiel sat on the bench.

"Samandriel," Castiel said.

The younger man turned, a frown marring his forehead. "Your highness?" He smoothed the robe, which was now hanging over his forearm. 

Castiel gestured at the chair by his desk, opposite the bench. "Please, sit. I want... I wish to ask you something, if I may." 

The startled expression didn't leave Samandriel's face. If anything, his frown deepened and he eyed the proffered chair with some trepidation. "Sir?"

Castiel blew air out through his nose in irritation. "Please. Just sit."

Samandriel hesitated for a brief moment longer, but then he perched on the edge of the chair. He laid the robe across his lap and folded his hands. Ramrod straight, his back and shoulders were so tense that Castiel was afraid that if he even so much as tapped his valet lightly on the shoulder, he would shatter into pieces. But, he was seated, and that was probably the best that Castiel could hope for at the moment.

"Samandriel, I know that the staff hear all kinds of... things... because people talk around you. I was wondering..." Castiel paused, not certain how to ask the question. He wasn't even sure he wanted to know the answer. "What have you heard about the gala last night? Anything, hmm, interesting?"

If anything, Samandriel's expression grew more alarmed as Castiel spoke. He didn't answer at first, and his mouth hung open as he stared at the prince. At last, he said, "I don't... I am not sure what you're referring to, Your Highness."

Castiel looked down at his hands, which he realized were twisting the ends of his coat. He loosened his grip and said, "I think you do, Samandriel. I'm just curious about what people have been saying. I'd like to know what faces me when I'm out in public later today." _There_ , thought Castiel, _that's the perfect way to find out what I want to know_. For in reality, Castiel was mostly curious about what Dean had done after he'd left the king's study. Castiel had little care for his own reputation, but the reputation of Dean, who had only tried to help... well, that was of great interest to him.

Samandriel gaped for half a minute longer, then he said, "People have been saying lots of things, Your Highness." He cleared his throat. "Most people enjoyed the ball very much. Only a few people left early." Here, the corner of Samandriel's mouth lifted in a rueful half smile. "Lord Uriel was among the first to leave."

Castiel only snorted, but made no other reply. When Samandriel saw that Castiel was going to say nothing on the matter, he continued. "There was a lot of talk about an incident in the gardens concerning Captain Winchester and..." Samandriel blushed, the bright red flowing up his face to the roots of his sandy hair.

"Me," Castiel finished, when it became clear that Samandriel would not. Samandriel nodded, looking relieved that he hadn't had to say it. "What does the talk consist of?"

Samandriel fidgeted in the chair, crossing and uncrossing his ankles before responding. "This is only what I've heard, Your Highness," Samandriel warned.

"I understand. I _am_ asking."

Samandriel nodded, and then spoke, his words hurried. "Some people said that Lord Uriel caught you and Captain Winchester, um... together... in the gardens. That you were engaged in um... certain activities." Samandriel's face was beet red now, staring down at the floor. He refused to meet Castiel's gaze. 

It was worse than Castiel feared. He'd spent half the night thinking that the rumors would be no worse than some idle talk about the two of them walking in the gardens unchaperoned. If, however, people thought that they had been kissing, or worse, having sex, then the king would most likely be forced to order Dean to leave.

"Is that the most... prominent of the rumors, then?" Castiel asked weakly.

Samandriel nodded, his expression miserable. "I'm sure that no one truly believes the rumors, Your Highness." His voice was so hopeful that Castiel almost believed it were true, but he knew better than to think that once the Court got hold of a juicy morsel that they would let it go.

Castiel stood, wiping his clammy hands on his thighs. "I suppose I will have to face the madding crowd sooner or later. Thank you, Samandriel, for being honest with me. I appreciate it."

Samandriel stood as well. He looked like he didn't believe that Castiel appreciated the information at all, but, well trained as he was, he said nothing. Castiel nodded once and then took a deep breath, willing his heart to stop jack hammering in his chest. It wasn't going to get any easier going outside of his room the longer he waited.

* * *

 

In his hurry to find out what the Court was saying about the incident, Castiel forgot about the members of his own family. When he entered the dining room, they were all seated around the table - every single last one of them. Michael sat next to Ruby, his icy blue eyes trained on the doorway as if waiting for something. Anna and Balthazar sat at one end of the table whispering to each other, while Gabriel and Kali sat at the other end. Luc and Lilith sat opposite Michael and Ruby. Lilith was attempting to engage Ruby in conversation, but Ruby seemed off in her own world, focused at something near the end of the table. The only family member missing was Chuck.

Luc shot Castiel a sympathetic look, but before he could say anything, Anna and Balthazar jumped up out of their seats. They ushered Castiel to a seat at their end of the table. Putting her elbows on the table and leaning her chin in her hands, Anna smiled at her brother.

"So, Castiel. I understand you have some news," Anna said, eyes glittering.

Balthazar elbowed her aside. "Cassie, I had no idea you swung that way, really. If I'd known, I would have shared."

Castiel rolled his eyes. "Whatever you've heard..."

Before Castiel could finish his sentence, however, Michael interrupted him. "You've disgraced the family, Castiel." His voice was heavy with irritation, and his dark brows drew together. "How could you behave in such a manner?"

Luc glared at Michael. "You should ask Castiel what happened, Michael, before you assume you know. You can't possibly believe that Castiel would..."

"Rumors are usually based in fact, Luc," Michael said in clipped tones. "Will the Captain be dismissed? He should know his place."

At these words, everyone except for Cas erupted into loud protests. No one distinct voice could be heard through the din, until a piercing whistle filled the air, silencing them. Balthazar stood on his chair, his fingers in his mouth. When he saw that everyone was quiet, he hopped down. "That's better," he said, and he picked up his cup of coffee. He had nothing more to add to the matter.

Anna patted Castiel's hand. "Castiel," she said. "What happened?"

Castiel frowned and blurted out, "Father won't dismiss Dean, will he?" A shocked silence followed his question, and it took him a moment to realize what he'd said. When he did, he groaned inwardly. 

"Oho!" Gabriel said. "So the rumors _are_ true then."

Castiel's face flushed. "They are not."

Balthazar shot Castiel a knowing grin. "But you wish they were."

Castiel stood. "I need coffee." He pushed back his chair with a little more force than he'd intended, and he stalked to the breakfront. Breads, fruits and cereal graced the surface, and an urn stood at one end. Castiel grabbed a cup and saucer and poured himself some coffee. Its heady aroma perked up his brain a bit, and he inhaled it deeply before returning to his seat. Nearly every pair of eyes in the room followed his progress, and when he sat, Balthazar and Gabriel pounced, demanding information.

But Castiel refused to answer any of the questions, and finally, with a pleading look to Anna, he stood and announced that he wasn't hungry after all. He beat a quick retreat, leaving his family talking loudly at each other across the table. He felt Michael's eyes boring into the back of his head as he left the room.

* * *

 

Walking through the halls of the palace was no better than being with his family. Overnight guests avoided his gaze as he stalked past, murmuring the barest of greetings - what they could get away with and not be offensive. But as soon as Castiel had gone by, he would hear the whispering start. It didn't matter what they said, Castiel understood this, but the fact that they were saying anything...

Castiel sighed, and headed out to the stables. Maybe an afternoon on horseback away from everyone would help him think more clearly about things. Castiel snuck into the stable without being seen by any of the stable-hands, a minor miracle in itself, and he grinned at his horse, who whickered back in recognition.

"Hello, Stormlight,” Castiel whispered to the horse. He stroked the horse’s nose, black as night, and dug an apple out of his pocket. The horse nudged at his arm to get at the apple, and Castiel chuckled. “You always were a greedy thing,” he said. But he handed over the apple anyway. While the horse munched on the apple, Castiel checked around the animal to make sure that there was nothing amiss with its shoes, or its feet. While he trusted the stable-hands, he liked to see for himself - he took pride in his horsemanship. 

Stormlight bumped against Castiel’s arm with his massive head again, angling for another apple. “Sorry, Stormlight. I don’t have another. But I’m sure we can find something while we’re out on our ride.” The horse snorted in what Castiel was certain was disgust, and Castiel rolled his eyes at the animal. Stormlight stomped his hoof on the floor of the stall, but acquiesced when Castiel put his bridle on.

Voices filtered through the stables while Castiel was getting Stormlight ready, and out of an instinct he couldn’t quite explain, Castiel ducked on the other side of the horse so he could not be readily seen from the main hallway of the stables. Whoever was out there was in the middle of a conversation, but Castiel picked up the thread as they spoke.

“...Right in front of the king. I didn’t know that Winchester had it in him.” Castiel didn’t recognize the voice - it was deep, so not one of the stable hands. 

“You think that Winchester was seducing the prince? Bold.” The second voice was younger, higher pitched, but again, not one that Castiel recognized. While he knew most of the staff on the king’s lands, many of them worked on a rotating basis, coming in from far flung areas of the kingdom for a short while and then returning home. It was nearly impossible to know everyone.

The deeper voiced man said, “Mouth like Winchester’s? I’m sure he had the prince begging for it.” Crude laughter echoed in the stables, and Castiel felt his face grow hot. A buzzing grew in his ears - was this the kind of thing that everyone was saying? He tried to hear more, but the pair had moved out of earshot. He contemplated going after them, demanding that they tell him everything they’d heard, everything that they thought they knew. It would be pointless, though. They’d never tell him directly, and all he would do would be to call attention to the situation even more. He pressed his face to Stormlight’s neck and exhaled slowly. The horse neighed softly, a comforting sound, but his hooves shuffled. Stormlight was restless and Castiel had promised him an outing.

Castiel led Stormlight out of the stable and threw himself into the saddle, giving the horse free rein. Stormlight trotted to the gate and then broke into a gallop as soon as they were beyond the crowds of the people. Castiel ignored their looks and leaned over Stormlight, urging the horse to go faster as they thundered down the road.


	7. Chapter 7

Things were _not_ brighter in the morning. Charlie shot Dean a leer and a wink when he got into the training room, and a few of the newer guards, ones he didn’t know very well, began whispering to each other in earnest.

The worst moment came when Sam arrived for training. It took one look for Dean to know that something was very wrong. He nodded at Victor, who took over and Dean grabbed Sam by the elbow. He steered his brother into the office and perched on the edge of his desk. Sam slumped in the chair facing the desk and folded his arms over his chest. Unusually disheveled, his eyes were red, and a smudge of dirt rested on his cheekbone.

Sam said nothing for a long moment, and then burst out with, “The Duke said he didn’t want Sarah marrying into our family. He talked about propriety and about how some people don’t know their place.” Sam glared at the floor, as if it had personally slighted him in some way. Dean thought that Sam was trying a little _too_ hard not to direct his anger at his brother.

“Sam...” 

“What the hell did you do, Dean?” Sam yelled. “I’m trying to figure this out, Dean, but I don’t know what you could possibly have done to...”

“Sam!” Dean snapped. “I didn’t do _anything._ ”

“Uh huh,” Sam said, shooting Dean a look.

Dean rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Sam, you know how court is with gossip. That’s all it is.”

Sam stared at Dean, his mouth hanging open. “If it were _just_ court gossip, the Duke wouldn’t have any problems. You know Sarah’s father, he’s not the kind of man who pays attention to _gossip_.” Sam said, practically spitting. 

“Sam, I’m going to make this right,” Dean said, leaning down to catch Sam’s eyes. Sam deflated as the anger drained out of him.

“Yeah, okay Dean,” Sam said. He scrubbed his face. “I’m sorry I yelled at you. It’s just.”

“I know, Sammy.” Dean clapped his hand on Sam’s shoulder. 

That Sam didn’t make a face at the old nickname, which he hated, was testimony to how upset he was about this. The last thing Dean wanted was for Sam to lose Sarah - she was good for him, balancing him in ways that no one else could. 

“I’ll make this right,” Dean repeated. Sam nodded and trudged out of the office. Dean  sagged against his desk. He knew what he had to do, he just wasn’t sure he wanted to.

* * *

 

Finding Castiel turned out to be much more difficult than he expected. Castiel spent a lot of his time either in the library or out in the stables, but he wasn’t in either place, and his horse was gone. Dean stood just outside Stormlight’s stable, contemplating whether or not he should saddle a horse and go after Castiel. The advantage of this plan would be that he could catch Castiel alone, outside of the castle gates, where no one could see them together. Other than the possibility that Dean might not be able to find Castiel, the disadvantage would be that they could be seen by someone, and that would generate even further gossip.

“Gods, I hate the court,” Dean said to himself.

“As do I,” came a gravelly voice from behind him. Dean whipped around just in time to see Castiel leap down from his horse gracefully. “Is there something I can do for you, Captain?” Castiel asked, his tone polite, but cool. He fixed his eyes on a point just beyond Dean’s left shoulder, avoiding all contact with Dean’s eyes. It didn’t mean that Castiel was angry with him, Dean tried to tell himself. 

Castiel tilted his head to the side, and Dean had to remind himself that the prince had just asked him a question. Dean stammered a bit before he launched into the reason why he was there. “I think we need to revisit your father’s solution.”

Castiel blinked, but made no comment. He led Stormlight into his stable and removed the horse’s saddle. “Hand me that brush, would you?” 

Dean picked a brush up off a shelf and handed it to Castiel, who grunted his thanks. Dean watched as Castiel rubbed the horse down with a blanket, and then methodically brushed the horse’s coat until it shined. The horse stood calmly under Castiel’s hands, huffing occasionally in approval. Castiel worked steadily, clearly in no hurry to leave the stable or to begin the conversation with Dean, which Dean completely understood.

Finally, Castiel patted Stormlight’s nose fondly and exited the stall. Expecting Dean to follow, he didn’t look over his shoulder, and Dean debated staying in the stables until Castiel came back to find him. 

But that would make the whole situation even more uncomfortable than it already was. Dean followed, blinking in the sudden light of the day. It was bright out, even though it was now overcast. Castiel hovered at the far edge of the courtyard, and then when he saw Dean emerge from the stables, he turned on his heel.

Castiel took a measured pace as he walked into the palace, and Dean matched it. He nodded at the guards at the entryway, pleased when they did not return the gesture. Their eyes flickered back and forth over the courtyard, as they’d been trained to do.

Castiel turned into the king’s study, and Dean entered just a moment after. Castiel stood at the far end of the room, his hands clasped behind his back. Dean hovered just inside the doorway, not sure of the etiquette of the situation. Propriety suggested that Dean should not be alone in a room with the prince, however the conversation couldn’t happen with Dean in the doorway.

The prince raised an eyebrow at Dean, who felt his cheeks warm at the scrutiny. He stepped into the room and cleared his throat, which was dry as a desert. “Your Highness,” he began, his voice rough. Castiel held up a hand and poured a glass of water, which he handed to Dean.

“Try again, Captain.”

Dean shivered at the coolness in Castiel’s tone. As proposals went, this one was off to a terrible start. He gulped the water down and put the glass on the king’s desk when it was empty. “Your father was right,” Dean said, having found his voice again. “The gossip isn’t dying down, and it’s effecting more than just...” Dean waved his hand between the two of them. “It would be best if I left.”

A flicker of alarm passed across Castiel’s features for a moment so brief that Dean wasn’t sure he’d really seen it. Castiel’s mouth dropped open and then he shut it with a click. Turning so his back was to Dean, he said, “That is not an acceptable solution.”

Dean sighed. “Your Highness. Castiel,” Dean said this last in a softer tone. “It’s the only solution that will stop the gossip.”

Castiel whirled around. Dean stepped back when he glimpsed the dark expression on the prince’s face. “You are mistaken. It will only serve to fuel the gossip, not stop it.” He pushed into Dean’s personal space, his finger pointed at Dean’s chest. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“You can’t just order me...” Dean said, but he stopped. Because technically, Castiel could do just that. 

Castiel smirked. “I could. But I won’t.” He folded his arms over his chest and took a step back from Dean. “You shouldn’t have to leave. This is Uriel’s doing, he should...”

Dean shook his head. “We’ve been down that path. It won’t help matters.”

Castiel looked thoughtful for a moment, and then said, “There could be another way.” He chewed on his lower lip for a moment. “I hesitate to suggest it, but...”

“Anything,” Dean interrupted. Desperate to make things right for Sam, he was willing to entertain any idea, no matter how outlandish.

Castiel straightened his shoulders, and, catching Dean’s eye, he said, “We could marry.”


End file.
